OneWay Mirror
by ValykirieRevolution
Summary: One-Shot, Meer-Centric. Meer looks back on life, with details inside


**AN: This is a slight in-depth.. ah analysis of Meer Campbell-It is from Meer's perspective, but in 2****nd**** person format. I really don't know where this came from. A plot bunny attacked me really; I actually kinda like Meer. I'll get right back to Whispers down the Path, and look out for Bitten Apple, an upcoming Twilight fiction.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Seed Destiny-If I did, AsuCaga would be more prominent. **

**As always-enjoy!**

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One way Mirror

Life was most certainly unusual, if one took one path instead of another, a whole new set of possibilities opened up to one. Many people looked back on their lives, wondering just how their lives would turn out if they had taken one path instead of another. Meer Campbell didn't make such reflections, she felt no need to; her old life hadn't particularly been a memory worthy, or notable.

She had a voice like Ms. Clyne, but that was merely all. It gave her a twinge of happiness to sound like the person she admired most. The soothing, but somber lullaby lilt of the songstress had wrapped itself around Meer's heart like a ribbon-all tied up in a pretty package.

Sadly, no one had heard of her-even her manager had given her pitying gazes, a face pulled together in a puckered, disappointing gaze. A sigh or two revealing their true feelings about her. Meer desperately wished they wouldn't do that, and if only she could make them proud of her; but maybe she was only paranoid.

But then, he appeared-her light or hope. The Chairman had come; Meer hadn't quite figured out how he found her, but to her it didn't matter. To her, he was a savior, the one her gave her an identity, and purpose. To her, he was beautiful-an elegant lithe frame that was sheathed in subtle designer clothing. Thick black hair enveloped an angular face like a satin curtain, the planes of his face were high and pale. Glittering gold eyes carried a strange depth, and it complemented the small enigmatic smile that graced his small pink lips.

He always seemed so serene around her, it made her feel wanted. He spirited her away from her old life. Like prince charming riding in on his white horse, sweeping his chosen princess off her feet; whisking her away to a new exotic place. Her life would suddenly be filled with adventures, romance, fame, and glamour. She would be revered by all because of her innocent and peaceable nature.

He held her hand all the way to the operation room, and the first thing that was handed to her when she awoke was a mirror. Pale blue eyes encasing wisdom, with soft, thick eyelashes. A cream colored heart shaped face, and soft, cascading waves of pink hair. Perfect symmetry, each angle high and delicate, the skin smooth and soft. Curves were where they should be; flesh delicately molded to perfection.

It was Ms. Clyne, no she was Lacus Clyne-the songstress of hope. The surgery a success, and now her devotion was assured. Her beloved Chairman gave her a mighty task, and she'd happily take on the challenge. He was counting on her, and she knew she'd live up to Ms. Clyne's being-and become the embodiment of the pink princess.

To her it didn't matter if she wasn't-she'd be more than happy to impersonate her idol for the betterment of humanity. She'd do her best to live up to her beloved Chairman's example.

Soon she'd found how much she adored her job; fans cheering her name with frenzy. The expressions on their faces as she greeted them. Gifts, and letters, and praise came her way by the truckloads. With pretty shiny parcels, and soft ribbons, and fancy bows. Her wardrobe increased, and she found the clothes she knew she loved-and since she loved them, she knew Ms. Clyne would too.

She of course had researched about Ms. Clyne, but she studied for only for a short while, before taking the process head on. Her songs were "revamped", bubblier, faster, and she decided to dance in more energetic beats.

She finally met Athrun, who was…her fiancée'. Although, he acted as the perfect gentlemen as always; she thoroughly enjoyed the way Athrun would become flustered and blushed when she pressed up against him. She couldn't help flirting with him, he was just so adorable.

He didn't encourage her, but that just made all the more determined-after all, who could resist her perfect body? She'd shown him just how worthy she was, because she was Lacus Clyne.

It didn't occur to her that only a few could see the differences between her and the real Lacus. Meer's eyes held none of that quiet strength, or their calm and compassionate gaze. Instead, hers were wider, more naïve and mischievous. Their smiles were held opposite of one another, and even their postures were different.

The way they moved was different, Meer had a buoyant, giddiness that bellied a sensual vitality. Whereas Lacus had elegant poise, a calm rippling gait that exuded an astute benevolence and inner strength.

Everything about them was so different, yet only a few could truly tell the difference, one that seemed obvious to them. Meer, however was oblivious to this. In her eyes, she was Lacus, and she had succeeded in becoming her. She even surpassed her. She felt the love that others gave her, and their genuine feelings towards her. As her old self Meer, she wasn't loved, or even known; but she is no longer that person, and she was given a purpose and a reason for living.

She vehemently denied anything else, it was simply unacceptable to be anything else but Lacus; anything else was less than that. Which was why she felt in the right when Athrun told her otherwise. His pity towards her made her angry; it was an insult to call her anything less than what she was, and his insistence to call her Meer drove her into fury.

Perhaps the reason she was so attached to her "identity" was because she was driven to have one. It most have been subconscious on her part, because she never gave much thought as to why-she simply was. Each and every excitable action, every movement, perhaps her entire being was being driven by desperation. A desperation that came from wanting to achieve a purpose, to be remembered even.

Maybe that was why she dived in front of her idol; after all, she didn't think-she did. Her entire thought was to simply protect what was meaningful to her. All she asked for was to be remembered.

Fin.

AN: Love it, hate it, or just don't care? Like I said, I have no idea where this came from; all plot bunnies are like kids with ADHD-they just don't sit still, and they are crazy. R&R please.


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